Vlad
by blacksnap
Summary: A young, uncorrupted Varus falls into Noxian hands during the Ionian occupation and ends up in Vlad's possession. Timeline and ages may be semi-accurate, if not off completely. Cameos made by a few other Noxians. Rated M for rape.
1. Chapter 1

**Edit: New chapters finished. I have a vague idea for a resolution in the future, so further chapters may be incoming. Again, feel free to critique, point out spelling errors, explain what you liked, what you might like to see more of, etc.**

**I will explain, I guess. This is my first mature fanfiction, where Vladimir brutally rapes a younger Varus. Alternate universe, I guess, where the Noxians invade but never storm Varus's village, nor the temple, only raiding it for prisoners to be shipped back to the Noxian arenas during the occupation, and Varus is younger than he should be, merely a temple apprentice, and not yet married.**

**If there's any technical mistakes I made, feel free to point them out and I'll check it over.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy.**

He woke slowly, as there was no light to awaken his senses. His hands were tied behind his back. He tugged experimentally to be sure, wincing as a wave of dizziness came over him. So he was blindfolded, and bound, it seemed, to a chair. This was worrying to the young man, and he flexed his legs, but found he could not move them from the base of the chair.

He heard a noise behind him and froze. Was that breathing? Footsteps? He dared not move, yet as he listened he heard nothing else. He licked his dry lips nervously and shivered. Something cool and knife-like brushed against his waist and he stiffened sharply.

"Who's there?" he asked, his the fear in his voice apparent even to his own ears.

A dark chuckle answered him and the cool edge began to travel upwards underneath his shirt.

"You can call me Vlad," came a smooth voice from right beside the boy's left ear, "What can I call you?"

The young man flinched slightly, but tried to keep a brave face.

"Varus," he said.

"Varus," Vlad softly repeated while running his claws across the bound man's throat and face.

"What are you doing?" his blind prisoner asked sharply, jerking his head away. Vlad pulled back, smiling at the boy's fear as he pulled off the claws on his right hand and dropped them one by one onto the floor, where they clattered lightly on the stone surface.

He began to stroke the boy's hair, playing with his forelock, twirling it between his fingers. Then he removed the band that secured Varus's ponytail and shook his long, brown hair loose.

"Stop," Varus protested, "What do you want from me?"

"You'll find out soon enough, my child," Vlad chuckled as he combed the young man's hair between his fingers. It was a pretty boy he had been given, young, athletic and lean, with an angular face that was pleasant to look upon. But right now he wanted to see more than the Ionian's head. He got his fingers and claws underneath the harness Varus wore and lifted it up above his head swiftly. He tossed it aside, then attempted to pull off his shirt. Seeing that it would not be possible to remove it without tearing it or untying his prisoner, he opted instead to pull it behind the boy's head instead, leaving his chest exposed to the cool basement air.

Varus hissed as he felt something scratch his side as Vlad messed with his shirt. His blindfold was moved out of position as the shirt passed over his head. He narrowed his eyes in the dim light as his eyes quickly adjusted. He was in a simple room, with walls and a floor made of grey stone brick.

He noticed chains hanging from the walls and his pulse quickened with fear. There was no door he could see from his position.

He saw something moving out from the corner of his eye and saw Vlad come into view. He was a thin man with sleek white hair, dressed in a long crimson coat. He noticed the claws the man wore on his left hand, and remembered the cut on his chest.

Vlad saw that the blindfold had shifted and reached out for it, smiling. To Varus's surprise, he pulled it off his head and flung it behind him instead of fixing it. He watched with a mixture of dread and confusion as Vlad began to unclasp the fasteners on his coat, not at all hindered by the long attachments on his hand that coordinated with his fingers with dexterous ease. The coat fell to the ground and Vlad stood before him in a simple red short-sleeved shirt and striped pants.

With a sigh, Vlad stepped forward and sat down facing the boy, straddling him. He smirked cockily at the way his prisoner leaned away, eyeing him with fear and uncertainty. He let his fingers roam down the boy's chest and dip beneath his pants slightly.

"Stop," Varus repeated, a note of panic entering his voice. Vlad withdrew his fingers and smiled reassuringly at the frightened boy, then leaned in to nip his neck lightly with his teeth. The boy jerked in surprise and Vlad bit again, harder, drawing forth a trickle of blood and a yelp from Varus. Vlad sat back, licking his lips with satisfaction, and laughing at the shock in the boy's eyes.

Varus saw his tormentor leaning in again and he tensed, but all the man did was to brush the stray hairs out of his eyes and trace the markings on his forehead. Again, Vlad caught him by surprise, grasping his face in his hands and swooping in to kiss him forcefully. Varus gasped, breathing rapidly as the man's tongue invaded his mouth roughly. He felt Vlad's weight slowly lift from his thighs as the man stood up and pressed against his chest him with additional force. He let out a smothered whimper and struggled, twisting away, but Vlad's grip was too strong. Yet he would not give up, and in his thrashing, felt the binding on his feet give way suddenly. Without thinking of the consequences of his next action, he brought his knees up as hard as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

Vlad pulled back with a howl and stumbled on unsteady footing. Varus struggled against the chair, but was too entangled in his bonds, too flustered to think calmly. He froze as he saw Vlad, who had recovered, moving forward with a dangerous scowl on his face. He cringed, blood pounding, heart racing with fear.

"Insolent brat," Vlad roared and flung the chair to the ground. A pain shot through the young man's elbow as the weight of the chair landed on it. Then a crimson steel-toed boot swung into his stomach with a sickening thud.

"Eaaaargh!" he shuddered and fell limp. He dimly realized that Vlad was tearing off his shirt, his scarf, the ropes securing his bound hands to the back of the off the cloth and the ropes. He stepped away, then more clothing fell to the ground: his claws, his boots, his shirt.

"Ionian dog," Varus heard him growl softly, "You little dog."

Vlad gazed at the helpless boy shuddering on the ground before him with not a hint of emotion on his face. Then he unzipped his pants, freeing his erect cock. He stood stroking it with one palm, waiting for the boy to take note of him. He wanted the boy to fear what was coming to him. He would enjoy exerting full control over this child, dominating him into a senseless, whimpering, pleading whelp.

There, he was looking now, watching him standing there, bare-chested, with his erection on full display. Vlad allowed a cold smile to flit over his face at the sight of the young man's look of abject terror. He bent over, gripped a fistful of that long, silky brown hair, and yanked it up sharply.

"Kneel," he commanded roughly, striking his victim with his other hand until he complied.

"Now open your mouth," he demanded.

Varus kept his head down and turned away, gasping out as Vlad yanked on his hair again, but refused to face him.

"Don't make me hurt you, Varus," Vlad warned, "I can do a lot worse than this."

He heard a choked sob in reply and reveled in the young man's terror.

"My patience is running dry, boy."

Still, his captive averted his face, so Vlad dragged him to the wall and shoved his back against it. With his fingers, he pried open the boy's mouth and thrust his member inside it. He groaned with pleasure as the boy struggled unwillingly, pushing against him with his delightfully moist tongue.

"Behave yourself and this will be over soon enough," warned Vlad, "Struggle and you'll pay in blood."

Varus made a muffled scream around his rapist's cock, unable to shove the intruder away, his hands still trapped behind his back. Vlad seemed content to let his tongue writhe around his dick for a few moments, but soon he began to thrust in and out of his warm mouth.

"Enjoying yourself, boy?" Vlad asked mockingly, as he pulled Varus's head forward into him and thrust deep inside his throat, "How do you like the taste of my cock?"

Varus choked and gagged each time Vlad went in deep, tears of humiliation and pain trickling from his eyes.

"No? You will learn to appreciate it, no matter," Vlad laughed and thrust in deep again and again, groaning blissfully.

Feeling completely helpless in this humiliating position, Varus closed his eyes, refusing to look at the man standing above him, wishing he would finish and let this ordeal come to an end. He wanted nothing more than to be alone. He wanted him gone.

Yet the huge, hot thing in his mouth was very real. It tasted slightly salty, he realized, as it slid down his throat again, cutting off his air passage. He gagged and Vlad pulled back slightly to let him breathe.

"Suck," commanded Vlad, and Varus's eyes shot open with horror.

"You look so hot with a cock in your mouth," Vlad grinned, "Suck it. Suck it or I'll bang your skull for the next half hour."

Eyes downcast with shame, Varus gave one experimental suck, earning him a moan of approval from above.

"More," urged Vlad, a dangerous tone creeping into his voice when Varus did not continue. Still, Varus did not indulge him, having changed his mind.

"You prefer it rough, then!" Vlad declared, and rammed the boy's head into his crotch and sliding his entire length into the boy's throat. He repeated the action again, and again, settling into a breakneck rhythm, oblivious to Varus's frantic choking.

Varus was powerless against the violent onslaught and focused simply on surviving the experience. Vlad's fingers gripped his hair cruelly, occasionally pulling at it hard enough to hurt. He looked up pleadingly, trying to signal Vlad to stop, but Vlad was totally engrossed in his pleasure.

Vlad's grip on him tightened suddenly and with one final sharp thrust, he came, releasing his fluids down Varus's throat and into his stomach. He pulled back slightly and continued coming in his prisoner's mouth. Varus tasted his cum, surprisingly sweet, but that fact did not lessen his disgust of it in the slightest.

Vlad withdrew from the young man's mouth and dropped him to the ground where he coughed and shuddered brokenly. He tucked his limp member back into his briefs and zipped up his pants, giving his victim time to recover from the experience.

He watched as Varus kneeled, bent over on his knees, hands still tied behind his bare back, gasping for air and still coughing up Vlad's cum. Vlad slowly knelt down beside him and wiped his mouth gently.

"Good boy, Varus. You performed very well," he crooned, "That was your first time giving head, was it not?"

"I think it's my turn to do you a favor," he smiled and began to undo the ropes tying Varus's hands together. Then he rolled the boy over onto his back, meeting no resistance, and undid the bindings on his feet as well. Then he moved for his shin guards.

"What- What- Stop… I don't- You-," Varus stuttered, regaining some of his awareness, "You- You said-"

"Hush, child, I promise you will enjoy this," Vlad said, yanking off the protective guards and moving for Varus's belt buckle.

Varus twitched at the tugging around his waist, his mind clearing, realizing what Vlad intended for him.

"No," he said suddenly, and when Vlad showed no signs of stopping, yelled.

"No!"

He lifted up his legs and kicked the Noxian in the chest with both feet as hard as he could, knocking the air from his lungs. Varus staggered to his feet and, spotting the exit he had been unable to see before, dashed to it and threw the door wide open.

Vlad let out a huff from the impact and his hands flew to his stomach. Growling, he got to his feet in time to see his pet vanish into the hallway.

"Varus!" he shouted after him, "You'll never get away!"


	3. Chapter 3

The young man ran on, heedless of Vlad's calls. He found another door and tore it open with the strength of a desperate man. He found a wine cellar, its shelves fully stocked with glassy bottles, and a stairway leading upwards. He ran so fast he practically flew up the stairs, but when he shoved at the solid door's iron handle, he accomplished nothing other than to strain his arm.

Locked. Varus stared at the handle, his arm trembling as he held it in a deathly grip. Then he threw his body against the door, pounding against it with his fists to no avail.

"Leaving so soon?" he heard Vlad speak from below.

He dared not look at him. He dared not think of that man and what he had done, what he planned to do with him. Varus let out a wail of frustration and threw his weight against the door once more.

It gave way to his surprise and he tumbled forward, colliding into another man. He was huge, with broad shoulders, a thick neck, and enormous arms, his frame large enough to block the entire doorway. Varus stumbled back a few feet, glancing at the man's grim, scarred face, then whirled around to check on Vlad's distance from him.

Vlad was standing at the base of the stairs, hair slightly tousled, his eyes lit afire with malice, but when he spoke his voice was composed.

"Anything you need, Darius?" he asked, an undertone of annoyance accentuating his words.

"I came looking for you," the walking fridge of a man said in a harsh, unforgiving, and deep voice.

"I'll be along eventually," Vlad said, "I have something I need to take care of first."

Hearing this, Varus rammed the man blocking his path. The man refused to move, though he shoved at him furiously.

Still, Darius grunted at the impact, for the young man was hitting hard. Frowning, he seized him by the arms and held him away from the door and raised his eyebrow at Vladimir questioningly.

"This is Varus, an Ionian prisoner brought back from the country. We've been having a little fun in the basement," Vlad said.

"Please," the boy pleaded to the stranger, "Please don't- Please don't let him have me."

Darius took into account the half-dressed state of the other men in the room, Vlad's attitude towards the situation, and Varus's frantic bid for escape. His eyes widened in comprehension and surprise, but he stepped forward with Varus into the cellar, closing the door behind him.

"No, please!" Varus's voice rose and he thrashed helplessly in Darius's iron grip.

"Where do you need him?" Darius asked gruffly.

Vladimir pointed and he began to drag the struggling, whimpering captive down the stairs and along the hallway. He reached the room and tossed Varus inside, giving him a well-aimed kick designed to keep him down before he could get to his feet. Then he slammed the door shut, but not before he saw the chair and clothing strewn about the room haphazardly. He felt a thud against the door as Varus put his weight behind it, his heart-wrenching cries muffled by an inch of solid wood.

Shoving back, Darius turned the key in the lock and strode away, shaking his head. Vladimir was waiting for him in the cellar, turning over a dark green bottle of fine wine in his hands.

"Here," he handed the bottle over to Darius, "This should occupy you quite nicely until I return. Share it with them. Unless, of course, you would like to spend some time with our special guest as well?"

Darius narrowed his eyes and took the bottle from his host's outstretched arm.

"Such activities are not of great interest to me at this time. Especially not with such a youthful boy," he grunted and climbed the stairwell.

"Each to his own. Lock that door again, if you would." Vlad shrugged and walked away.

"And that, my dear, is how the great Draven became the best axe-thrower in all of Noxus! No, In all of Valoran! And Demacia, too," Darius heard his brother say as he returned to the drawing room.

"Draven, Demacia is in Valoran," he sighed, and set down the bottle of wine on the table before sitting down across from his brother and the young woman that accompanied him.

"I know that. I'm just making it clear that they've got nothing on me," Draven smirked.

"Where is Vlad?" the woman asked Darius curiously, "I thought he would be joining us?"

"He was occupied," he answered shortly, popped open the bottle, and began to pour the wine into the empty glasses at the table.

"Ms. DuCouteau?" he asked, offering her a glass.

"Where's that from?" she asked, accepting it and giving it an experimental sip.

"Something Vladimir gave us to pass the time," he replied, pouring another glass for Draven.

"What's he doing down there anyway?" Draven leaned back and guzzled a mouthful from his glass and smacked his lips, "Aah, that's the stuff."

"Messing around with some toy he found somewhere. Some Ionian thing."

"Oh? What kind of toy? Why wouldn't he share it with us?" the woman pouted.

"Who knows? Vlad's weird, Cass," Draven laughed, "Have you seen what he wears?."

"Not a toy, exactly," Darius admitted, "A person."

"Oh?" Cass's eyes widened suddenly, "Oh, like… Like a girl?"

Draven guffawed loudly and slapped his thigh, "He's got an Ionian wench all to himself? How does manage these things? Wait," he leaned forward and lowered his voice slightly, "How do you know? You saw her? Is she hot?"

"It's a boy," Darius muttered gruffly, staring at his glass.

"What does he want with a foreign boy?" Cass asked.

"Interrogating him, maybe," Darius answered evasively, not wanting to discuss things further if Cass truly didn't suspect what was going on, but Draven persisted.

"A boy?" he wrinkled his face in distaste, "I didn't think Vlad would be into kids."

"An older boy," Darius quickly clarified, "A young adult."

"Still," Draven whistled, "Well… was he hot?"

Darius winced, "Enough, Draven."

"Alright, alright, fine, pass me another glass, would you?"


	4. Chapter 4

Vladimir paused outside the door of the room, listening for sounds intently. Then he smiled cruelly and twisted the key, letting the door swing open.

The boy had curled up in the farthest corner of the room, holding his shredded white shirt and his scarf around him like a blanket. He made a beautifully erotic sight in Vlad's eyes, with his unbound hair strewn across his face and naked chest, and his eyes staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

Vlad's eyes had an inhuman gleam in them as he approached. Varus sobbed and pressed himself up against the walls as if that would somehow put more distance between the two of them. He felt Vlad's touch on his arm and pulled away sharply.

"I did not want to mark your body, but you are asking for a beating," Vlad threatened.

Still, Varus would not allow Vlad to touch him. Before, when Vlad had forced himself upon him, he had been bound. Running was no longer an option. He would fight.

Varus lunged forward and sank his teeth into Vlad's wrist, then punched and kicked furiously to drive him away. Vlad backed up, grunting at the impact of the blows.

"I'm going to enjoy taking you," Vlad hissed, "And I'm going to make sure it hurts you, pretty thing."

"Leave me alone!" Varus yelled and swung at his face.

Vlad made a slight motion with his hand and Varus stopped moving, feeling his veins bulging suddenly with increased pressure. Dizzy, he stumbled and caught himself against the wall for support as the blood rushed to his head. Then he gasped in horror, for somehow; he could not explain it; he could feel his own blood coursing around inside him in waves.

Vlad motioned again and Varus collapsed on the ground, his brain screaming for oxygen. His vision was quickly turning black. He struggled to hold on to consciousness, but he could only watch helplessly as the room faded away.

Vlad released his magical hold on the boy's blood when he was sure he was out cold. Then he began to remove the rest of Varus's clothing at a leisurely pace, stroking the slender, yet muscular body, in the places he had not gotten to observe. When he had finished stripping him, he secured his wrists to the chains on the wall.

When Varus woke, he found himself sitting against the wall with his hands stuck in place above his head. He was naked, he realized suddenly and tucked in his legs in an attempt to cover himself. He saw Vlad sitting on the righted chair with his legs crossed, leaning forward with his chin in his hand, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes.

"All rested?" he asked.

"Go to hell," Varus said weakly.

Vlad smiled at the boy's pitiful attempts to hide himself.

"You know what I can do to you now. I have been remarkably patient with you until now. Do not lash out at me again," Vlad warned.

"Get away from me," Varus hissed and struggled against the cuffs as Vlad stood and approached him, "Don't come any closer."

Vlad halted his approach, undid his belt, and let his pants slide to the floor, revealing a pair of red cotton boxers. Varus curled up tighter and tucked his head in, refusing to watch.

Vladimir removed the last of his clothing and crouched down beside the cowering naked boy. He reached out and ran his fingers through Varus's messy brown hair. He combed out the strands with his fingers gently and leaned forward to kiss the boy lightly on the red mark he had given him on the neck earlier. He licked the wound soothingly and began to caress the boy's body with his hands.

Varus shuddered at the touch, but there was nowhere for him to turn. He endured the unwanted attention, hoping that Vlad would soon tire and leave, but Vlad's touches only increased in passion the longer time grew on.

Such a pretty boy, Vlad thought, pinching Varus's firm abdomen. That hand began to move down towards the young man's groin, but Varus protested and kicked him away. Vlad growled, his arousal growing unbearable, and forcibly pulled the boy's legs away from his body and shoved him onto his back.. Then he placed the tip of his cock at the entrance to Varus's hole and roughly shoved inside a few inches without warning.

"Aaaaaahaaaaa!" Varus screamed in response to the intrusion and his muscles tightened around Vlad's cock, trying to force him out to no avail.

"Oh, yes," Vlad sighed, smiling and keeping his weight on the screaming young man, "I told you I would make this hurt."

Varus whimpered in relief as Vlad pulled out slowly, then writhed and screamed in agony as he was thrust into again. Then he felt Vlad's hands around his privates, stroking up and down his cock and squeezing his balls lightly. He shuddered as the waves of pleasure his Vlad's touches gave him mingled with the biting pain and discomfort of having his length inside him. With horror, he saw that his own cock was rising and becoming hard in Vlad's fist.

"Like this, do you?" Vlad asked mockingly, pumping faster, and Varus could not stop a moan from escaping his lips.

"I'll take that as a yes," Vlad released him suddenly, threw his body down at Varus's chest and resumed thrusting in and out, slowly, but in a forceful rhythm, his hands traveling wildly over Varus's upper body.

Pain, pleasure, it was too much for Varus to handle. His voice was hoarse from screaming and he could do little more than to lie there moaning each time Vlad reentered him.

He was picking up speed now, and Varus was aware warm liquid trickling from inside him, his blood, most likely. He didn't want to think about what else it might be.

"Aaargh! Aaaah! Ayaaaa!" he cried. The pressure Vlad made every time he shoved himself in sent a multitude of signals wracking through his body. He was large, simply too large. He couldn't understand how he was fitting himself inside him. It seemed impossible, yet it was happening, stretching him with its fullness. It tore at him and it hurt badly, yet strangely Varus found his body reacting to the sensation positively.

Another moan was torn from his lips as Vlad shoved in particularly hard and leaned in to kiss him. The man was suffocatingly hot against his body and in his mouth. Varus wriggled, his body unable to tolerate the pleasures he was suffering.

Vlad answered with a moan of approval withdrawing his tongue and biting Varus's lower lip gently, staring into his eyes fiercely.

"You do like this. I knew it," he whispered triumphantly, still pumping swiftly.

Varus shook his head in denial vehemently and his legs kicked out again, but he could do nothing in his position.

"You're still so tight," Vlad laughed, ignoring his feeble attempts at resistance, "And so hard… I can feel your arousal against my chest. I think you're going to come. Does this really feel that good to you?"

He sat back slightly and snaked his hand down to Varus's erection and pumped it. The young man threw his head back and whined embarrassingly when Vlad squeezed and thrust at the same time. Why did he feel this way? He didn't want this. Even as he tried to deny it, he could feel pressure building up inside him.

"No," he gasped, "No, stop."

Vlad grinned wickedly and gave the boy's erection one final squeeze before Varus came with a cry, spilling his cum all over his chest. Then Vlad came too, yelling victoriously, filling up Varus to the brim with his seed. He pulled out before he was completely finished and sprayed the rest onto his body, where it landed on his torso and face, mingling with Varus's own ejaculate.

Vlad sat back, tired, but smiling at the defeated boy, who lay still, covered in their semen. He swiped some of it up on his hand and licked it all up before bending down to give Varus another passionate kiss.

A tear trickled from Varus's eye as he tasted what he knew was Vlad's and his own cum in his mouth. Then Vlad withdrew, swiped up more of the fluid, and shoved his hand inside of Varus's mouth.

"Tastes good, doesn't it?" Vlad laughed, forcing his fingers down his throat, "Swallow it like a good boy." Then he wiped his fingers on Varus's cheek caressingly and got to his feet and began collecting his clothes.

"I must be going now, but fear not, I will return. There is much we have yet to try."

Varus was silent, with his legs tucked in again, shivering as he sat naked and wet on the stone floor. Vlad noticed as he finished dressing and picked up the boy's ruined shirt. He crouched down beside his captive and draped him in the cloth with misleading tenderness.

"Poor boy. This is the best I can do for you now. Perhaps when I come back we will find another way to keep you warm?" he whispered by the boy's ear as if sharing a naughty joke. Varus kept his eyes downcast and ignored him. Vlad's fingers brushed up against his dripping hole and Varus kicked at him instinctively.

"We're going to fix that habit soon enough," Vlad promised, as he collected his claws on the floor and slid them on one-by-one. He opened the door, using his claws with practiced ease, and looked back at his captive, who had resumed staring at the floor.

"Behave yourself now," was Vlad's farewell, and he locked the door behind him for good measure.


	5. Chapter 5

"Draven, you've told that story twice already," Cass complained, "At least shake it up a bit, if you're not going to give your brother a turn."

"Darius doesn't talk," Draven scoffed.

"He says as much as he needs to," said Vladimir, walking into the room, his hair perfectly groomed, his brow clean and no longer shining from the sweat he had gathered in his activities.

Darius looked up from his glass, which he still had not finished. He said nothing, but nodded in recognition of Vlad's presence.

"Cassiopeia," greeted Vlad, "And the Blood Brothers. Such a fantastic name."

"What've you been up to, Vlad?" Draven asked, leaning forwards in anticipation, though Darius's testament had already given him a vague idea.

"A shipment of prisoners came in from Ionia a few days ago. One of my connections sent me a gift, a young little thing named Varus. A temple apprentice, so I hear. Darius saw him," said Vladimir.

"So you've just been breaking him in?" Draven asked.

Darius glanced at Cassiopeia, who looked somewhat unnerved, as if she was beginning to realize just what had been going on. He drank the rest of his glass and said nothing.

"Indeed," Vlad replied, "It is rather entertaining to see the Ionians' bodies torn apart in the arenas, I'll grant you that, Draven, but it is another matter entirely to break one's spirit. And that is exactly what I will do with this boy."

"Their temple acolytes are known for their combative proficiency," mused Darius, "You are sure this boy can do you no harm?"

"My magic will keep him in check if he manages to break loose. Besides, he was trained as an archer, and I keep no bows about the house."

"It is a nice house," Cassiopeia said, trying to steer the topic away from Vlad's plaything.

"I'm glad you think so, my dear," Vlad agreed, "I prefer it for its location. The city officials, unfortunately, do not appreciate my living too close to the city and it would be too much of a hassle to kill them all, so here I am."

"Thank you for letting us stay the night," said the woman.

"My pleasure," Vlad smiled generously, "You are returning from a diplomatic meeting, yes?"

"A small matter concerning some of the Freljord," Darius told him.

Vlad nodded, wondering who's bright idea it was to bring Draven to a diplomatic meeting. Darius, he could see representing the military. He hardly knew the woman, Cassiopeia Du Couteau, but recognized her shared name with one of the leaders in the Noxian High Command, and she seemed pleasant enough. Draven, though. Draven must be serving as some sort of bodyguard, he decided, unable to come up with a better explanation. That, or his appearance was some sort of publicity stunt.

He leaned back into the couch he had settled into, participating in the conversation with half a mind. His thoughts drifted back to the young man he had left shivering on the floor, humiliated and disgraced. Yet he knew that the boy was not yet completely broken, that he would require a few more sessions before Vlad would having him obeying his every command, fulfilling his every desire. Varus was his slave now. He would own him completely, in both soul and body, very soon. He licked his lips in anticipation.


	6. Chapter 6

Varus heard the door swing open and cringed instinctively. Footsteps approached and he braced himself for the blows that were sure to come.

This was Vlad's fifth visit. He had threatened Varus with no food or water, if he would only he would not resist his advances, but Varus could not agree, and Vlad would have his way with his new pet regardless. He had struggled had resisted, much to Vlad's amusement. His captor had switched out his chains for one that would give him a larger area to roam, simply so that he could chase Varus around the room.

"There's nowhere to run, dog," Vlad had chuckled, giving the chain a good yank so that his prisoner tripped and fell on his back painfully.

Then he had-

Varus trembled. No, he would not think about it. He would not.

Vlad crouched down by the naked boy and, touching a lock of the boy's brown hair, gave it an experimental sniff. He rubbed the oily strands between his fingers thoughtfully. He had hosed down his prisoner following their last session, but that had only barely been adequate, in terms of cleansing. However, it had also been quite entertaining.

"Poor boy," he murmured, "What would you do for a hot bath?"

The shivering man in front of him made no response. Vlad sighed deeply and roughly shoved him onto his back. He straddled him and squeezed Varus's bare torso between his thighs. Smiling now, he lay down on top of him and kissed his throat.

Varus could only turn his head away so that he wouldn't have to look upon his tormentor. But he could still hear him, feel him. His aching body, covered in bruises and cuts, protested Vlad's weight on him. A lone tear trickled down his face as he dreaded what he knew he would not be able to stop.

Vlad shifted his weight, then paused as Varus grunted in pain. Sitting up, he ran his hands along Varus's torso smoothly, gently stroking the purple bruises with his fingers; he was not wearing his claws today.

"You are hurt, poor thing," Vlad expressed with false sympathy and moved off of Varus's body. His eyes traveled down the exposed torso, down to the abdomen, the groin, and the legs.

"How is your knee?" Vlad asked, touching it. Despite himself, Varus twitched and inhaled sharply.

"I see. Well, I shall take care not to put my weight on it today," Vlad said, moving as it to get back into position, then paused purposefully, "Or… Would you prefer not to do this right now?"

"Answer me," he said sharply, after Varus failed to respond for ten seconds.

"Yes," Varus choked out, "No, I mean… Please don't."

Leaning forward, Vlad gripped the young man's head in his hands, forcing Varus to look at him.

"I will be good to you today, but you must obey. Do you understand?" he demanded.

"Yes," Varus whispered, averting his eyes.

"Good boy."

Vlad fiddled with a ring of keys and Varus felt the manacle around his ankle loosen. Then Vlad helped him up to his feet and let him lean against the wall as he removed his coat.

Seeing the boy's face blanch as he undid the clasps on his coat, Vlad laughed. He draped the long coat around the naked young man, being very careful and tender with his movements.

"See? There is nothing to fear, my child, so as long as you behave."

He offered his support to him, grinning as the trembling Varus weakly held on to him as they started down the hall, then up the stairs and out of the basement.

Progress was slow, especially up the stairs. Varus hurt, both inside and out, and several times he had to cling to Vlad to avoid falling. Some rebellious part of him was disgusted that he had to depend on his rapist for support, but he quickly silenced that thought and concentrated on not giving Vlad a reason to find fault with him.

The boy was faltering, Vlad realized, and slowed his pace appropriately, walking with his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Easy does it," he said soothingly, "We're almost there."

"W-Where?" Varus asked.

"You'll like it," Vlad assured him, not bothering to answer the question.

He brought the boy inside his own bath chamber, locking the door behind him. Then, letting Varus stand on his own, turned one of the faucets on a large tub. Hot water began to fill up the great basin, a fine mist of steam beginning to float up to the ceiling. Then Vlad began to undress slowly, removing his shirt, his boots, pants, and boxers, folding them neatly and putting them off to the side. Naked now, he motioned Varus to come to him.

Shuddering, Varus limped over, loathe to look upon Vlad's naked body again. The coat was removed from his shoulders and Vlad folded it and put it down along with the rest of his clothes.

Vlad glanced over at the tub, which was about half full. He put his hand on Varus's shoulder and the young man flinched.

"Why so afraid?" Vlad asked, drawing his back in close to his chest. He kissed the nape of Varus's neck lightly and watched the water rise, keeping his lips against Varus's skin.

Varus was starting to regret his decision to play along. Vlad was still far too close for comfort. Still, he thought, it would have been worse if he had fought back earlier. It would have been much worse.

"That seems like enough," he said, hoping that Vlad would leave him alone for a time once they were in the water.

Vlad knew what he was thinking and said nothing, but tightened his grip on the boy slightly in warning.

"Just a bit more," he said softly.

They waited, then Vlad decided that it was enough and helped Varus into the hot water. When his foot touched the surface, Varus gasped, but Vlad's grip was firm, and he was safely lowered into the water. Vlad joined him, moving to stop the flow of water, then sat down across from him and sighed blissfully.

And the water was quite pleasant, Varus realized, his muscles starting to relax. His eyelids drooped and his head lowered as he breathed in the warm steam rising to greet his nostrils. For the first time in days, he was warm.

Then he remembered Vlad and his muscles tensed up again and he drew in his legs closer together protectively. Vlad was observing him now, not missing a single action.

"Feeling good?" Vlad asked him.

Varus hesitated with his answer and settled for a quick nod, hoping it would satisfy him. It seemed to, for Vlad sighed and settled back again.

He could not relax again, however. Vlad's very presence unnerved him, bothered him. He shifted again, covering himself further with his legs. Vlad's eyes snapped open and bored into him.

"I will wash you," Vlad said suddenly, and stood, dripping, to get out of the bath. He returned shortly with three bottles, a cup, and a sponge. As he stepped into the tub again, Varus shifted uncomfortably.

"I can do it myself," he tried.

"But I insist," Vlad replied easily, pouring an orange gel into one hand and sitting down beside him.

Sighing, Varus turned his head in the other direction, allowing Vlad to get it wet and lather up the substance in his hair. Vlad was surprisingly gentle when it came to undoing the knots that had gathered in his long hair, making sure not to pull at the strands too harshly.

"You see how nice I can be?" Vlad asked softly, massaging Varus's head and drawing his fingernails across it. He filled the cup with water and poured over the young man's hair several times to rinse it.

Varus felt Vlad's hands working his hair into a lather again. He brushed the soapy water from his eyes with one hand, still thinking about what Vlad had just said. He balked at describing Vlad as "nice". Nothing had changed about his personality. His kind words were tainted with another meaning, a threatening one.

Vlad was still dangerous. He was not safe, Varus realized, as Vlad rinsed his hair again. He was sure Vlad would make another move on him soon; the question was only when.

Vlad poured soap onto the sponge and, holding Varus's long hair out of the way, began to scrub at the back of his neck.

"Relax," he soothed, noting how the boy's muscles tensed at his touch, "Just relax. I'm not hurting you, am I? Tell me if it hurts and I'll be careful."

It did not hurt there. Varus allowed him to scrub his back clean, stiffening as the sponge moved over a particularly large bruise. Vlad noticed and lessened the pressure over that area. Then Vlad turned him to face him so that he could clean his sides, his chest, and his face.

The boy closed his eyes as Vlad gently, but firmly rubbed his face, cleansing the oil and sweat on his forehead and cheeks. Vlad slowed, admiring the young man's narrow facial structure, unmarked by any injuries, as he had taken care not to strike him there before. He gave him a light kiss on the lips and Varus's eyes opened quickly. The boy jerked away instinctively and Vlad frowned, not because it upset him, but because he knew it would intimidate the boy.

"Rinse," he said, and drew away to apply more soap to the sponge to wash himself with. When he was finished, he moved back to Varus and began to wash his lower half beneath the water, lifting the boy's legs to scrub his thighs, knees, shins, and feet. Then, coming in close, he touched the young man's private area.

Varus yelled and Vlad was met with a violent kick to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Vlad, having fallen below the water, came up spluttering, and when he had recovered, a murderous gleam entered his eye. He watched Varus's stricken face, the boy clinging against the wall of the tub, too frightened to move, terrified of Vlad's reaction.


	7. Chapter 7

Vlad moved forward and Varus whimpered pathetically, drawing his limbs in to protect himself and closing his eyes in anticipation of a beating.

"What have I told you?" Vlad growled darkly, digging his fingernails into the boy's shoulder.

"I- I'm sorry," Varus choked, his voice shaking with fear, "Please, please, I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't mean to-"

Vlad growled and the younger man fell silent. Privately, Vlad was pleased and relished in the power he held over the cowering child, but he kept up his angry, menacing front.

He found the sponge where it had fallen to the floor of the tub and picked it up with his foot. He shoved Varus against the tub firmly.

"I'm going to wash you. What are you not going to do?"

"I won't- I won't kick-" Varus stammered.

"You'd better not," Vlad agreed darkly, and proceeded to sponge off Varus's privates, and then his rear. Varus trembled horribly at his touch, but did not lash out again, to which he was impressed, for he had been anticipating another reaction.

"Now you are clean," Vlad declared, and dropped the sponge outside the tub, "You did behave better than I expected, aside from one incident..."

Varus shuddered and leaned away from him, but Vlad was having none of it and pulled him back in.

"Such actions cannot go unpunished," Vlad began, and Varus sobbed.

"Please- Please don't- It hurts. I- I hate it. Please!"

"You will give me what I want," continued Vlad, indifferently, and he forced the boy to sit on his lap.

Varus screamed unexpectedly, a horrible cry of built-up despair and terror, and Vlad laughed to himself.

"Surely that didn't hurt," he said.

Varus felt something enter his hole and he tried to leap up, but he was weak and Vlad's arm kept him in place easily.

"This will only hurt if you struggle," Vlad warned, moving his finger around inside the younger man's hole, exploring him and rubbing his inner walls.

Varus shuddered in relief as he felt Vlad's finger leave him, then stiffened again as Vlad put it back in along with another finger. Vlad began to stretch his entrance gently, preparing it for what was yet to come.

"Are you ready?" Vlad whispered seductively and Varus groaned and thrashed with renewed energy. Vlad grimaced as the water splashed in his face and he tightened his hold on the boy with both arms.

"Relax," he growled, and put the tip of his now-erect cock at the boy's stretched entrance, causing the boy to increase his struggles. Vlad waited patiently. Though his threats had little effect to calm the young man, he knew he would run out of energy before long.

Eventually, Varus's struggles faltered and came to an end. Vlad pushed in about an inch and the helpless noises that came from the boy made him grin wickedly.

"Please," Varus groaned, as Vlad pushed deeper, then pulled out and began to thrust in a rhythm.

"Please stop," he pleaded.

"Am I hurting you?" Vlad continued thrusting and pulling back, but slowed his pace further.

"Y- Yes," Varus cried.

"I'll be careful," Vlad said.

Varus hung his head and sobbed, bouncing up and down against his will as Vlad pushed up into him, then out, then in, then out. Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he stop this from happening?

"You feel good around me," Vlad commented behind him, the words burning Varus's ears with shame.

He hadn't lied. He had been sore from before, and had not had a chance to heal. And while Vlad might be treating him more gently than before, Varus was clenched around him tightly, his stress making it impossible for him to loosen his muscles.

"I know how to make this better from you," he heard Vlad say, then felt him shifting his angle and intensifying his thrusts. Varus gasped as Vlad struck his prostate repeatedly, overloading his senses with pleasure.

"Stop," he gasped, for it still hurt and he wanted Vlad away from him, regardless. One of Vlad's arms moved, but instead of freeing him, it moved down to Varus's own cock and began to squeeze it. Varus threw his head back at the feeling and groaned.

Vlad was panting with exertion now, but he chuckled at the noises he heard coming from the young man on his lap.

"Does this… please you, dog?" He asked, moving his fingers to tickle Varus's balls, and Varus clenched around him again. Vlad inhaled sharply at the sensation and his thrusting intensified. His hand found Varus's rising cock again and he pumped it vigorously, earning another moan from him.

He decided he had gotten the boy sufficiently aroused and moved his arm back up to secure his hold on him. Then he stood up swiftly, catching Varus by surprise, and supported almost his entire body up above the water, shoving himself in and out with breathtaking speed. He felt his muscles contract and knew that he was about ready to come.

"Learn your place boy," he hissed, and released his semen inside the young man with one final shove. The liquid left him in quick spurts and he stayed firmly inside to ensure that he had emptied his entire load before he pulled out.

Varus said nothing as he felt the liquid flowing inside him, degrading his body. His own erection strained for release, but he turned away from Vlad as the older man walked around him, trying to hide it from him.

"No," Vlad warned, and grabbed his cock with one hand. He stroked it, running his other hand down the shaft to the sensitive tip, making Varus jerk and writhe with pleasure.

"You do like this," Vlad said, amused, "I thought you would."

He pleasured the young man until he came, shooting his juices up onto his own chest. Vlad fished around for the sponge, letting Varus collapse on the seat in exhaustion.

"Was that so bad?" Vlad asked, wiping the mess from Varus's chest. One look at the boy's dejected expression told him all he needed to know. Chuckling softly, he kissed him on the forehead and pulled him up from the water. Once they were outside the tub, Vlad pulled a dark red towel from a hanger.

He dried him thoroughly, from head to toe, before drying himself off as well. Then he led the boy to an adjacent room, Vlad's personal chamber. He lifted Varus off his feet and gently lay him down on his bed.

"Don't move. I'll be right back," he ordered.

Varus closed his eyes, feeling utterly defeated and ruined. He found himself wishing for the cold, dark room in the basement, where at least he could dwell on his misery in solitude. He still ached all over his body, and he was hungry.

Vlad had returned. Varus sat up quickly in surprise and his body protested the sudden movement. Vlad smiled at him reassuringly and held up a white bathrobe for him to see. Varus allowed him to put it on him, noticing that Vlad had already put on a similar robe, but red.

Yawning, Vlad sat behind the boy and put his legs on either side of him. Then Varus felt a brush running through his damp hair, straightening out whatever tangles had formed since Vlad had washed his hair.

"Sweet child," murmured Vlad, "How old are you?"

After a while, when he had failed to receive an answer, Vlad pinched his side sharply.

"Varus," he said, letting a dangerous note creep into his voice.

"Nineteen," Varus bit out, and Vlad nodded in satisfaction.

"You seem young for your age," Vlad said. He put aside the brush, got up, and searched a cabinet for his medicine kit.

"Your wounds," he said simply, returning with a case, "Show me your wounds," he clarified, when Varus looked confused.

He saw the boy hesitate, clearly unwilling to expose himself again. Still, Vlad waited patiently and the boy pulled up one sleeve, presenting a moderate cut on his upper arm.

He applied an ointment the boy's scrapes and bruises and they began to heal slowly, though his knee, Vlad figured, would need something a little more, as the wound was deeper. He reached out with his magic and lightly stirred the blood within the boy's knee.

Varus shied away, recognizing the feel of Vlad's magic from before. Vlad had only used it on him twice before, first to subdue him on the first day, then another time to make him thrash helplessly in pain as punishment for refusing one of Vlad's demands. Of course, after that affair, he had been made to comply with Vlad's wishes anyway.

Yet, though it was uncomfortable to feel the blood rushing through his knee, it did not seem as though Vlad's intention was to hurt him. Something in his knee shifted as a result of the blood pushing and pulling at his flesh, then Vlad released his hold over his body.

"It will heal quicker," Vlad assured him and picked up the brush again to straighten out his own white hair.

"I suppose you are hungry, now?" he asked "You have not eaten for three days, after all. If you want to eat, you need only ask."

It was true, he had almost forgotten his hunger, so long he had endured it in the basement, and Vlad's reminder made it painfully clear how hungry he really was. But Varus did not speak and Vlad continued to brush his hair.

"Mmhmm," Vlad grunted, and sat down behind him to squeeze the boy's shoulders. He couldn't keep his hands off the boy.

"If it's not food you're after," he began slyly, "I can think of something else to fill your stomach with."

It took Varus a full five seconds to let the meaning of those words sink in. He paled upon realization.

"Wait," he said, as Vlad pressed his groin against him, "W-Wait, I'm hungry. I want to eat. Please."

"Mmm," said Vlad, nuzzling his ear tenderly, "Well, since you asked so nicely."

He rose, but did not offer Varus assistance.

"Stay," he commanded, rummaging around in a drawer. He came back with a pair of cuffs.

"I will bring your meal here, but I can't have you running off in the meantime," Vlad explained, seizing one of his wrists and securing it to the bed post. Then he gave him a quick kiss and was gone, closing the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Vlad turned around to lock the door behind him, but before he could pull out his keys, a familiar blue glow rose from his feet and rapidly engulfed him in magical blue rings.

"I was not scheduled!" Vlad snapped at no-one in particular as the blue glow faded and he found himself in a summoning chamber in the Institute of War.

"Ah, I am sorry," said the summoner there, a short young man in a robe too large for him, "One of our champions returned home due to a family emergency. You did tell us earlier that you would be available to sub, did you not?"

"Yes, but that was before- Never mind," Vlad grumbled, striding over to a bench, where the spare clothing and equipment he kept at the League had been laid out for his arrival. The hooded summoner nodded and turned away to study a list as Vlad took off his bathrobe and dressed himself.

"We have ten minutes before the match starts," the summoner explained, still facing away from him, "Normally you would have had fair warning, Warwick has only just disappeared and is nowhere to be found".

"Yes, yes," muttered Vlad distractedly, "Who is on the opposing team?"

"Ionians, mostly. I am unfamiliar with their team, but it seems they are fighting to resolve a dispute involving Noxian influence in one of their towns. Not a critical match for us, but you should not take it lightly."

Vlad grunted in agreement as he slid on his claws. He got little use out of them, but they were more for show than practicality.

"You will be with the Darius, Draven, Leblanc, and Sivir. On the opposing team, there is," the summoner paused slightly, frowning, "Shen, Karma, Udyr, Ashe, and Garen."

"I know those, aside from Karma," Vlad mused, "What is Garen doing there?"

The summoner frowned, thinking, "This Karma is new, I think. I don't know what Ashe and the Demacian are doing in the lineup. Perhaps they could not come up with enough of their own people in time."

"What are you setting me up with?" Vlad asked.

"Flash and Ignite, as usual. Not much reason for anything else. I imagine we will be sending you to the top lane," the summoner said, finally turning around, "If you are ready, I will send you in now."

Nodding, Vlad waited as the summoner weaved his magic, calling forth the blue rings around his champion's body. Then he was gone.

"I was not-," Varus heard Vlad say from the other side of the door. Looking over, he caught sight of a light blue glow coming from under the door just as it faded into nothingness. He held his breath and listened, but he could not hear any footsteps. Thoughts raced through his mind and he dared to hope for the best. Was it possible…?

He could be wrong. He could be wrong, but some feeling in his gut told him that he was right. He had heard descriptions of summoning magic before. And it made sense that Vlad could be a champion. With his blood magic at his disposal, he didn't need to rely on his stronger body to overcome Varus. He could easily overpower a bulkier man, Varus assumed.

If he was right, he had a window of time in which to act. Varus tugged at the binding on his wrist, a unrelenting steel thing, which was secured around an metal post. Alright, so he probably couldn't break this thing. He didn't have time to saw through it, if that was even possible. He pulled at it harder, hissing softly as it cut into his skin. It would not fit. Even if he damaged his hand, he did not think he would be able to force it through. Perhaps he had to remove his hand, but there were many problems with that idea.

Could he break the bed post? Varus shifted his attention to the structure and bit his lip in the discomfort he was feeling inside, for Vlad had not tended to him there. Which was fine. He ran his hand along the post. It was thick, too thick to even hope to break. He could not slide it up; it ran into a support. Could he slide it down? Varus hopped off the bed and shoved aside the heavy bedside drawer to check.

No, the thing that supported the mattress was in the way. But… But there were screws holding it in place. If he could undo them… Varus's heart leapt hopefully. He needed a tool. He pulled open the shelves of the drawer and rummaged through. Nothing. Papers. A feather pen. A razor. A bottle.

Claws. Varus pulled his hand back instinctively. Vlad kept his claws in this drawer when he had no use for them on his person, then. He picked one out, one of the smaller ones, and slid it over his forefinger. It was a tight fit, but he hoped it would stop it from slipping as he twisted it.

He dug the edge into the groove of one screw and turned his finger. It met hard resistance; the thing refused to budge. Gritting his teeth, Varus put the force of his other hand behind it. He tried for half a minute and stopped when his hand screamed for a rest. As soon as he could, he tried again and felt it give way a little.

"Yes," he whispered. He could do this. And if he got away, he would be free. Away from Vlad. That was all that mattered.

Injured, starving, naked, save for a bathrobe that did not belong to him, and stranded in the middle of Noxus.

Varus banished the doubts from his head. Away from Vlad. At least he would be away from Vlad. He adjusted his hand to put more force behind his pull. Progress was easy now, and he removed the first screw, tossing it on the floor, where it clinked.

Three more. The next was just as hard to start as the first had been and Varus paused to let his exhausted hand recover.

"I'll let you in on a hint, Garen," Vlad called out, "That brush is WARDED!"

Garen frowned, but said nothing. The Noxian was lying, he thought with surety, as he crouched in the tall grasses like a tiger waiting to pounce on its prey. Unarmored prey. Garen could never understand why mages tended to neglect their bodily defenses, choosing instead to wear flashy outfits that left them totally vulnerable.

Vladimir, the Noxian, was slowly pushing the minion wave towards him, with the aid of the tower. Soon, he knew, Vladimir would check the brush, then Garen would spring his trap and deal painful justice to the arrogant blood mage.

There was no way this brush was warded. Garen had kept an eye on it this entire time. He checked with his summoner to be sure. She had not seen Vladimir ward the brush either. Garen tightened his grip on his enormous sword and waited impatiently for the mage to come close enough. The minions waddled by, but his Noxian opponent kept his distance from the brush.

"That's the oldest trick in the book. Is that the best you can do?" Vladimir sneered. With a growl of frustration, Garen burst from his hiding place to cut down a blue minion.

Vlad chuckled and waved his hand to siphon a stream of blood from the heavily armored knight the moment he had vision of him. He had been lying, of course, but he knew from experience how to act when facing Garen. He pushed his lane with confidence, for he was secure in his position and Udyr had recently been sighted on the other side of the map. Having pushed his minions into Garen's tower, he retreated to the brush to recall.

The third screw rolled across the floor and Varus leaned his forehead against the wall tiredly. He had no idea how long he had been at it. Most of his fingers were weak from exertion; he had been switching the claw to each in turn. But now there was only one left. He could only pray that the door wasn't locked when he finally worked himself free.

The young man lined up the edge of the claw with the final screw and pulled, grunting in pain as it resisted. If he had to hurt himself to get out of this hellhole, so be it. He gritted his teeth and twisted again. This one was tighter than the others, or perhaps it only seemed that way because he was weakened. He tried again, putting more of his body weight behind it and sighed in relief when it began to give way.

It was loose now and Varus almost ripped it out of the frame, so eager he was to be free. He flung it behind him and the mattress support fell down, causing the bed to lean at an angle. He shoved against it, but it was heavy and he backed away before it could crush his foot.

Alright. He was clear of that. Now he was free to slide his manacled hand down to the floor and he did so quickly, lifting the bed post to allow the manacle to slip free. The manacle was still on his wrist, but it bound him to nothing. Varus staggered to his feet and the tilted bed wavered in instability. He ran for the door and threw it open. It was not locked. He shouted, exhilarated, and dashed through the house as fast as he could. His body was still sore in some places, and he had not eaten in such a long time...

Where was the exit? Where was it? He wrestled one door handle after another, only to greet unused rooms, or smaller corridors. He yelled in frustration. There had to be a way out. There just had to be…

He stiffened as he heard an enraged scream, slightly dulled by the walls of the house. No! Had he really taken so long to make his escape? Vlad could not be back already, surely!

"No," he whispered with dread. This was bad. Perhaps he could hide. Where could he hide? Vlad was sure to know the house better than he did. He would know the likely spots. Should he keep running? If Vlad so much as caught sight of him, it would be over, he knew. He debated between his options as his heart raced and he stood rooted to the ground, frozen with fear.

What would Vlad do to him if he caught him? He cringed as memories flashed through his head. He didn't want any of that. He had to run. Hide. Something.

"Varus!" he heard Vlad yell, and he was sure it was Vlad now. "I know you're still around here! Come forward and I will be merciful!"

Absolutely not. Never. He might rather die, Varus thought, breaking out of his panicked trance. He turned and ran.

Vlad scowled darkly and sniffed the air, seeking the scent of the boy's blood. It was faint, almost untraceable, but it was still there.

"Varus!" He called again, heading in what he thought was the most likely direction for a panicked young prisoner to run. He sniffed again for confirmation and continued on. He was not sure if the boy was even in the house anymore, but he called to him anyway, promising him mercy if he gave himself up.

"You will not be able to go far in your state," he said loudly, "I will catch you eventually, and I will be very angry when I do."

His ear twitched. A door had been slammed open somewhere. Vlad sprinted towards the sound, knowing his prey was near. He found the door slightly ajar, as if it had been opened with such force that it had bounced back off the wall far enough to almost close itself. Varus was being careless, but Vlad supposed that was perfectly natural for a boy frightened out of his mind. He touched the handle and opened the door, but paused.

"Clever child," he murmured, realizing something, "Devious little bastard."

He turned around, looking for something, and a closet caught his eye.

"One last chance," he called out, "And if I find you after this, I'll beat you senseless."

He waited for ten seconds and when no answer came, he swung open the door and slammed it shut. He walked softly to the side of the closet, holding his breath.


	9. Chapter 9

Varus waited for two full minutes after he heard the door slam before he dared to even open his eyes. He got to his feet shakily in the dark, empty closet, and slid the door open an inch. Then he slid it the rest of the way, quickly, but quietly, and stepped out into the light. He turned to the right and saw Vlad.

Vlad wasted no time. He brought up his hand and curled it into a fist and the boy crumpled to the floor helplessly as his own blood rebelled against him. Then he brought his foot down on the boy's injured knee brutally. A pained scream told him of his attack's effectiveness. He stomped on the boy's abdomen to crush the air out of his lungs. Then he crouched by the winded boy and swiftly bound his hands together with the manacle that dangled from his wrist.

Without a word, he grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair and started to drag him along. Varus writhed and screamed, unable to keep up the pace, or even get on his feet. Vlad pushed on mercilessly, and when he had to pause, he kicked his helpless prisoner in the side. He dragged him down the steps in the cellar and into the room where Varus had suffered several times already.

Varus lay still, tears leaking down his face, as Vlad unlocked his cuffs and removed his bathrobe.

"You did not come when I called for you," Vlad said, crouching by the naked young man, "I warned you several times… Why did you run in the first place? How did you think you would ever get out of here? Where would you go if you did? Answer me!"

A few more tears slid down Varus's face. Vlad brushed the wet hairs out of the boy's face. He frowned at the spectacle and walked to a corner of the room where a shelf displayed an assortment of objects. He selected a chain that resembled a collar of sorts and returned to the helpless boy.

"A choke chain. We use them on dogs here in Noxus, for training, when they refuse to heel." explained Vlad coldly, as he wrapped the chain around the boy's neck and secured it. He yanked on the chain sharply and Varus stiffened in shock as the chain tightened around his throat.

"Are you such a dog, Varus?" Vlad asked. He jerked the chain upwards to force Varus to lift his head to avoid choking. Then he released the device and Varus slumped to the floor, gasping heavily. With a yell of anger, Vlad slapped the young man's face.

"You belong to me," he shouted, "Do not dare to run away again!"

Varus brought his arms up to his face in an attempt to protect himself from Vlad's violent strikes. In response, his captor rolled him over onto his stomach and began to spank him. It only stung at first, then it really began to hurt as Vlad whaled on him with his palm. Varus sobbed and tried to curl in his body, but Vlad was having none of that.

"You took advantage of my kindness, boy," he continued, "What message do you think that sends to me? Do you think I will ever trust you again?"

Vlad found the chain again and tightened it until the steel cut dug into the boy's flesh. Varus's bound hands flew to his neck and he tried to relieve the pressure around his throat, but he could not get a grip on the chain. Vlad stood, pulling the boy's head up, and placed his foot on the boy's hands, pinning them to the ground. He watched dispassionately as the Varus's mouth opened and closed in silent helplessness. The young man's eyes were clouded and unfocused and the fight was fast fading from his beaten body. Vlad shook him viciously, then released him with a growl.

Varus dropped to the floor and sucked in breaths of air greedily. His throat burned and ached, but his need to breathe overrode his other concerns. He did not notice as Vlad walked around him, so the sudden kick to his side took him by surprise. He yelped and cringed and Vlad followed up with another kick, digging his steel-toed boot into him viciously.

He was flung against the wall and the rough stones scraped on his unprotected skin. Vlad kicked him again, in the ribs, chest, and back. Varus was bleeding now in several places and angry red welts began to surface on his skin. Vlad kicked his knee repeatedly and Varus screamed, but not loud enough to cover up the sharp crack of his knee breaking under the assault.

Vlad put his assault on hold and began to undress as the boy continued to wail in agony. He flung his clothes aside carelessly and stalked, like a predator, over to him. He kicked the boy over so that he was facing the ground. He planted his foot on the boy's back and began to stroke his limp member.

Varus panted and sniffled weakly, grateful for the reprieve. His knee was on fire with pain. He tried to slow his breath and tightened his gut, but the movements only reminded his body of the bruises and welts that covered him. A quiet, pained cry escaped his lips.

He was ready. Vlad swiped what precum he had released over the tip of his erection, wanting the lubricant for the ease of penetrating the boy, rather than to spare him pain. Then he straddled the boy, bent over him, and grabbed his waist between his hands. The boy's body trembled noticeably, but Vlad's stern hands held him steady. He put the tip of his arousal at the boy's hole and pushed in slowly.

"Discipline, boy," he said, as Varus broke down sobbing. Varus felt him push in a little deeper and he struggled, but only managed to hurt himself. The pain was overpowering. He cried brokenly and begged for Vlad to pull out.

"Vlad! Vlad, please! Stop! Stop! It hurts. It hurts so much."

The faintest smile flitted over Vlad's lips. He gripped the boy's hips tightly and pulled it up, sliding the boy onto his erection and holding him in a kneeling position. Varus's pleas stopped abruptly with a terrified screech.

"Tight as always," Vlad groaned loudly, and began thrusting before Varus had a chance to adjust. He brought the boy's hips up each time he thrust down for greater impact. He knew he was putting pressure on the boy's knee, but shrugged the thought aside indifferently. He brought his hands beneath the boy and shoved him up again.

"Nngh! Ah! Aaaaah!" the boy cried helplessly. This was not real. This could not be real. It was too horrific, too terrifying. Then the pain cut through his thoughts. Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve this? He stopped screaming and his body went limp. He gasped, out of breath, as Vlad continued to hump him. He could not hold his silence for long. He groaned as Vlad brushed up against sensitive nerves.

It seemed like an eternity to Varus before Vlad finally came. He whined, feeling Vlad pick up the pace suddenly and felt Vlad's cum flowing inside him. Vlad held onto him, breathing heavily. Then he laughed.

"I bet you think it's over," he drawled, and Varus thought he felt his heart stop beating. Vlad shoved him on his back and kneeled over him, his face inches from his prey. The young man flinched away, tears still rolling down his face.

"Call me master," Vlad whispered, "Call me master, beg for my forgiveness, and I may take pity on you."

"M- Master," Varus sobbed shamefully, "P-Please forgive me. I- I… I-…"

He broke off, unable to finish the sentence between his shuddering breaths. Vlad shifted above him.

"No!" Varus exclaimed hoarsely, "No, please, enough. I've had enough. Master, Vlad, please. Please! It was a mistake! I'm sorry!"

"A mistake, you say?" Vlad murmured in his ear, "It seemed like you put a lot of effort into dismantling my bed."

"Master, I'm sorry. I was- I- I was scared… I-"

He felt Vlad's hand on his side and shuddered. But Vlad did nothing but to caress the large bruise there. He stroked it gently, soothingly.

"You took advantage of me. I believe you have been punished thoroughly," Vlad stated after a few moments of silence, "But now you must be disciplined. You will remain here until I decide you are ready to leave. Do you understand?"

The young man nodded weakly. Vlad got to his feet and went about collecting his clothes. He dressed quickly and left without another word.

Master. This man was his master. Varus moaned and crawled to a corner, where he curled into a defensive ball and cradled his ruined knee. He hurt all over, inside and out. His rear was wet with Vlad's cum where it has spilled out of him. He burned with humiliation and pain. He wanted to die, he told himself. He wanted to die. His eyes wandered around the room. Perhaps he could bash his skull against the wall until he bled to death. He lifted his head weakly, then collapsed to the floor with a thud.

What kind of man was Vlad, to derive pleasure from another's pain? Varus could not understand. He could not see the reason behind Vlad's actions. Yes, he had tried to run, but he should not have been held here in the first place. Vlad had no right. No right. How could he get away with this? Could he get away with it forever? Did Noxians allow this to happen?

Why was this happening? The tears were coming again. They trickled from his face to the floor, forming small puddles. Drip. Drip. He closed his eyes.

Drip.

Drip.

Was his family safe? What would they say if they ever found out, if they ever knew? He let out a sob. He was used. Tainted. They would pity him. Look down on him. It would not be the same again. His mother would be hurt, his father disappointed. His mother. Varus longed for her comforting arms and felt instantly ashamed for his childish sentiment. He was a man now. He could not depend on his mother anymore.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Why did he feel so helpless? Why couldn't he stop Vlad? Was he so weak? His face burned. He had called him master. He had begged. He gritted his teeth and tasted tears. He'd had to. He'd been so scared. He couldn't risk Vlad doing… doing it again.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.


End file.
